There were no words, no reactions, that fit this situation. Only a primal scream that would have no effect whatsoever. It wouldn’t reverse the past, wouldn’t erase her dark memories. He was at a complete loss.
“When I realized I was pregnant, I had to give the baby a chance. Even though the odds were against it. I’ve been expecting a miscarriage every single day. What was the point in telling you if I was only going to lose it? Even now, I’m terrified of becoming too attached in case something happens.”
It was his. The knowledge crashed over him like a wave, bringing a sharp sting of heightened awareness to his whole body. It changed everything. His entire life, every decision and action, filtered in a blur through this lens of a new life they had created.
The cogs in his brain finally began turning, but with a rustiness that scraped at his detachment.
“So this is...delicate?” What if she lost it? For some reason, neat as that solution might sound, the idea appalled him. “Are you all right?” He should have asked these questions the minute he’d had her alone. “Has this put you into labor? Are you in pain?”
“No.” She skimmed her hair out of her eyes and let herself relax into the seat of the car, hands settling over her bump. Her complexion was pale, but she sounded calm. “We’re both quite healthy, all things considered. But I see a specialist in London and she wants me on bed rest for the third trimester. She was an intern in Spain when I was a child and knows everything I’ve been through. I’ll let your doctor take my blood, but I’m not giving some stranger my medical history. He touches my arm. That’s it.”
He nodded, still trying to put the pieces together.
“I know I should have told you sooner, but I also knew that if I carried this baby to a stage where it could survive birth, then I would have to marry you. I don’t want to.”
Her gaze finally came up, striking into him like a harsh winter wind. Bleak.
“I thought if I ever married, it would be for love.” Despondency pulled her brows together and her thick lashes swept down to hide her eyes again. “That makes me sound like a romantic and I’m not. I just don’t want to be something taken on in sufferance. My sister fell in love. I know it’s possible.”
Her elbow came up to rest on the door and she set her teeth on her thumbnail.
“Plus, my life is already high profile. Yours is worse.” Her hand dropped away and she flashed him a look of blame. “Why can’t you be a mechanic or something? Your life comes with even more restrictions than I imposed on myself. Why would I sign up for that? Of course I avoided telling you.”
He certainly wouldn’t live this life if he had a choice, but it struck him as odd that she disparaged his station. Every other woman aspired to be his queen.
“So, yes, I’ve handled this badly. God knows I’ve been informed of that more than once.” She rolled her eyes. “I probably owe you an apology.”
“Probably?” Did she have any idea the damage she had caused by avoiding him?
“I’m not sorry. I will never be sorry that I’m trying to have our baby.” Her chin came up, defiant and fierce, but with deep vulnerability edging her unblinking eyes.
Something stirred in him. Gratitude? How? This baby was a disaster.
As if she read his mind, the corners of her mouth went down. “And I think we’ll do enough damage to each other in the next while that if we start apologizing now, we’ll be peaking way too early.”
Never trust anyone who can’t make or take a joke, his father had told him once. Your grandmother, for instance, had been the rest of the crack.
His grandmother. Yes, indeed, there would be hell to pay and many, many apologies to make.
Before he could fully grasp the scope of impact, a dull buzz emanated from the front of her shirt. “Goodness, an hour gone already?” She reached inside her collar to bring her phone from her bra, voice shaken but trying for lighthearted. “Hola, Henri. I’m fine. Just congratulating the father of my child. Does he look green to you?”
* * *
Trella could ignore the signs for only so long. The nausea churning in her belly, the heart palpitations, the hot and cold sweats. An attack was upon her. Of course it was. This was one of the most stressful days of her life and she was doing everything wrong, making it worse. Maybe she did self-sabotage, the way her brother Ramon sometimes accused, but she would rather eat live worms than admit he was right about anything.
She hated to admit any sort of weakness, because she knew, deep down, that she was weak. There was no hiding it from her family, but few others knew exactly what a basket case she was. That’s why she’d spent so many years sequestered in the family compound. It had provided the security and stability she’d needed to overcome the worst of her issues, but it had kept her pride intact, too.